


Writhing Wednesday

by whitebloodcellfightinglikehell



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitebloodcellfightinglikehell/pseuds/whitebloodcellfightinglikehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's a doctor at a mental institution where Ryan ends up because his parents don't want to deal with his behavior and sexuality. Brendon grows fond of him and helps him escape, but not without a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writhing Wednesday

The sun had actually been bright that morning over the gloomy building, it made Brendon smile a little. But as soon as he entered that doorway, and saw the cells, heard the noises, his smile faded. There he was, back to the daily routine of “fixing” the mentally insane. But no Wednesday had been as sunny as this one, ever, he thought, in his entire life. It was like his dream, but he shook that off. His dreams were just dreams, not relevant to real life, of all people, he should know that.

But maybe he was losing it, really. When he saw a straitjacket-clad boy being dragged into a cell, he felt as if it’d been done before. It had, but no, this time it felt so much more familiar. Then he saw the boy’s face, looking at his brown eyes filled with a hatred that seemed so passionate, but yet he could see pleading somewhere in those irises. Matted brown locks and tearstained cheeks had never affected him so much in his career, his life even. It was all so distant, so dreamy, but it was real and he knew it. The memories were clouded with a fog of thought. Something about this was pressing.

The boy was roughly thrown into his cell and spit on and it made Brendon wince. He’d never understand why people were so cruel.

When the boy was locked up, however, Brendon felt his heart drop, and it dropped even more when the little slot was opened up and the boy gazed at him with those cloudy brown eyes. Nothing in those eyes was mentally scarred, other than maybe the experience he’d just had. And when his cell was unlocked and he had been chained and thrown aside, Brendon might have let a tear roll down his cheek, but he made sure it wasn’t visible. Back to work, then.

***

Brendon was the one that would give the boy his treatments. And when he looked at the papers, the treatments he had to give were just a bit wrong.  
 _"Aversion therapy associates negative stimuli with homoerotic pictures and positive stimuli with heteroerotic pictures."_ Sometimes he didn’t understand the logic behind the treatments the patients were forced to go through. He sat the shaking boy easily on the table, trying to smile comfortingly at him. But he, himself, was shaking as he started reading more about the treatment, and he just gave up. The door was locked—no one had a key to this room except himself and a few other doctors who weren’t even in today. He turned away from the book, grabbing a chair in the corner of the room and pulling it up beside the table, looking at the shaking boy with a gentle smile.

“Ryan.” He grabbed the boy’s hand and squeezed a little. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  
Ryan looked confused, and Brendon repeated himself. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  
“W-what do you mean?”  
“I’m not doing the crazy treatment. You don’t need it”  
Ryan pulled away from Brendon’s hand and turned around. “Apparently I do.”  
Brendon frowned. “I don’t know why they put you in here. You’re fine.”  
Ryan shrugged. “Parents didn’t want me around anymore, I guess.” His tone was filled with a bitter hatred that anyone could feel from miles away.  
“That’s horrible.”  
“You’re telling me.” He chuckled bitterly. “It’s devastating. Knowing your parents think something’s wrong with you just because you’re a tad different.”  
“You’re misunderstood, not mental.”  
“Tell me about it.”  
Brendon frowned and cupped the boy’s face with his hands. It felt like he’d done that before…in a dream. Of course. His dreams.  
“I’m not going to do anything, okay? The treatments. I’m not doing them.” He smiled again. “You’re fine. Perfectly fine. You shouldn’t be here.”  
Ryan’s face brightened up just a tad, and he got off of the table. “Can I go, then?”  
Brendon shook his head. “You have to stay in here for a while. With me. That’s okay…right?”  
Ryan nodded and sat back up on the table, looking a bit disappointed but at the same time relieved. “You’re not like the others. You don’t spit on me.” Ryan smiled a little. “I like you.”  
Brendon chuckled. “Those other doctors are insane.”  
“They are.”  
“They should be the patients, honestly.”  
Ryan smiled a little more. “But not you. You should be the one giving them treatments…cruel treatments.” He looked delighted at just the simple thought.  
Brendon made a face. “Nah, I’d be too soft on them.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah.”  
There was a bit of quiet in between them, and they kept talking for a while after that, about escaping and how it would be to be free from life in general, to be able to see the sights and be free of the gloom in the air above them, that small hint of everything being all wrong. And when they had come out of the room, Ryan had to act as if he’d had the treatment, Brendon would put him back into his cell, and sneak a kiss on his cheek and then wink at him through the slot. That wink gave Ryan some hope.

***

Treatment after treatment went the same. Talking, pretending. Hopes of escaping, the feelings inside bursting out, and they were closer after every conversation. Brendon’s dreams continued. Everything about Ryan felt like déjà vu, too; the dreams were like reality and he couldn’t shake it, couldn’t make them go away. And the kiss and wink after the daily grind of it all.  
And one day, Brendon looked at Ryan in that bleak room with the hard table, his face soft, but his eyes excited.  
“We’re leaving.”  
“We are?” Ryan sat up immediately. He’d taken to lying on the table and letting Brendon play with his hair, it calmed him and helped him forget everything.  
“Everyone’s suspicious of me. We’re going to get out of here.” Brendon smiled. “It’s really going to happen.” His voice dropped to even lower of a whisper. “I’ll be yours. You’ll be mine, and everything will be okay.” He planted a light kiss on Ryan’s cheek and smiled. “You’re happy, right?”  
Ryan’s face brightened up. “I…thank you.” He hugged him tightly and Brendon pulled the boy into his lap, holding him tightly and stroking his hair.  
“We’re going to get out of here, we’ll never have to see another dirty cell again.”

***

Brendon had been put on the night shift, and he was cautiously pulling Ryan through the halls of the eerie building. Ryan was shaking and Brendon wasn’t exactly fine, either. He was helping a patient escape, which could help him get in a cell, himself. They could hear the other patients stirring. One of them was scratching at the door and meowing, as if he was a cat. And another cell, with a guy droning on about life with himself, a whole given conversation. Down the halls they went, and everything just got creepier.  
A slow stride to his office, and the little window in the corner let them both sigh with relief.  
Brendon pushed a chair over to the window and grabbed a chain from the corner, throwing the chain outside and getting it hooked on something outside—he’d gotten a orbitoclast from the last lobotomy performed and nailed it securely outside. He climbed carefully out of the frame and hopped out of the building, making sure the chain was still there, still where Ryan could grab it if he needed to. It was raining, pouring, and Brendon was shivering.  
“Take my hand,” he whispered as Ryan started to pull himself up out of the window. He did as he was told and Brendon took him gently out of the horrible little building of bad memories and cruel curses. And they ran, and ran, and ran from that point on, shivering in each other’s arms, and Brendon shared the white coat he had with Ryan, snuggling against him in it. They were both drenched in cold rain from head to toe, and they finally got to the forest. Brendon, though, he could hear these horrible footsteps a few yards behind them, and he pulled Ryan close to him. It was raining harder than ever and he started sobbing. Ryan looked at him, confused.  
“Brendon, what’s wrong?”  
He replied by kissing him suddenly on the lips, his hands tangled in his hair.  
“Run,” he whispered against the boy’s lips as he broke away and let Ryan have the coat. He looked at Ryan as he ran farther away, just watching him and wanting to be with him, but he’d rather Ryan get free than get them both imprisoned.  
The footsteps got closer, and closer. He could feel the tears pouring down his face, he could feel his insides boil, his heart sink, and his arms being securely grabbed by one of the other doctors.  
“Urie, you’re fucked.”

***

 _"Aversion therapy associates negative stimuli with homoerotic pictures and positive stimuli with heteroerotic pictures."_  
He’d remembered that well with his first treatment, one of many that he’d have. That’s what his dreams had meant. He’d been stupid in those dreams, getting attached to a patient. Now he was strapped into a chair with images being shown to him. And whenever he showed a slight liking to one of the pictures, he’d be shocked.  
But it didn’t happen very often, because all he could think of was Ryan. Watching him run away, feeling him on his lips, pulling his frail body out of that window and helping free him. And when he got shocked for the sixth time that day, he couldn’t help but smile, because he knew he hadn’t done this to him.

***

He’d been very uncooperative, and he still refused to change at all. Maybe it was him, maybe it was the treatments.  
But they were tired of him, and they pulled him as he struggled into a room. He saw an orbitoclast and a hammer sitting on the table by the chair. He calmed down considerably and sat down in the chair, just not caring. Life wasn't the same anymore.  
They performed the lobotomy on him, yes, and he didn’t live to see the daylight of tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a sequel coming for this soon!


End file.
